


Arms Around My Life

by Nix (CrimsonQuills)



Series: Knowing [2]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Soulmates, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonQuills/pseuds/Nix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neroon is gone without word. Marcus heals as fast as he can: his soul-mate isn't getting away that easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arms Around My Life

**Author's Note:**

> Both this fic and the one that came before were inspired by a song. They aren't song fics -- no lyrics appear -- but the song was the spark that ignited the muse. Personally, I think the stories benefit from reading the song first. The title of it is "Arms Around My Life" and it's by Janis Ian. Unfortunately, it's only available on a collection of her unreleased songs which is very difficult to find. But you can get the lyrics here: <http://www.janisian.com/lyrics/armsaroundmylife.php>

The first time Marcus awoke his body was in agony, but he had Neroon's voice in his ears. Nor was the tone scornful, as it had been before. Instead he sounded thoughtful, even a little sad. So Marcus gathered the shreds of his returning strength and managed a single sentence: "Next time... The next time...you want a revelation...could you possibly find a way...that isn't quite so...uncomfortable?"

The sound of Neroon's laughter washed through him like a balm, better than any painkiller. Marcus fell back into restless sleep with a smile on his lips. 

When he woke the second time he was alone. He lay still, a little disappointed that there was no one at all watching over him, but times were tense and he of all people understood the demands of duty... Soon enough a nurse came to check on him and the too-familiar routine of recovery and physiotherapy began. 

He didn't find out where Neroon had gone until nearly a week later, when Susan came to visit. 

"Gone? What do you mean, he's gone?" Marcus demanded, pushing himself up onto his elbows despite the pain of his bound ribs. 

"Gone," Ivanova said impatiently. "As in left, no longer on the station, probably millions of miles away by now." 

"Why would he have left?" Marcus asked faintly. _How could he have left?_ He cried silently. _I only just found him! He knew me, there at the end. I know he did._ A nurse, alerted either by the tone of their voices or the monitors tracking Marcus's vitals hurried in and pushed him back down on his back. 

"Why are you so upset," Ivanova asked, frowning in confusion. She stepped back to let the nurse check his assorted bandages, but refused to leave. "Marcus, that bastard meant to kill you. I thought you'd be pleased to see the back of him." 

"But he didn't kill me," Marcus said, glaring at the nurse. She didn't seem bothered. _Probably has to deal with patients like me all the time,_ Marcus thought wryly. 

"And what?" Ivanova snipped, "You have a burning need to ask why? I'd be careful. He might change his mind again." 

"He didn't _just_ change his mind," Marcus snapped back. For all his affection for Susan, her hostility was grating on his nerves. "And I don't need to ask why. He already told me." 

"When?" 

"He came to see me the first day I was in here," Marcus said. Susan flinched, though he hadn't intended any rebuke for the delay in her own visit. "I'm surprised the grapevine hasn't passed that tidbit along yet." 

"So?" Ivanova prompted. "Why'd he let you live?" 

Marcus's pride prickled, though by his own admission he'd been entirely at Neroon's mercy at the end of their duel. He pushed his irritation back. Susan certainly didn't deserve it. "His reasons are...personal," Marcus said, restraining a slight sigh. _The question is, how personal?_ Marcus was sure of himself. Neroon _was_ his soulmate; his whole being sang with the knowledge. He'd thought Neroon had felt the connection as well, but now...Marcus couldn't be sure. 

The Ranger sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. There was nothing to do now but wait. Once he was healed he'd find a way to go looking for Neroon. _I know who you are now. I'm not going to let you go this easily._

"Marcus?" He opened his eyes at the concern in Ivanova's voice. "Are you sure you're all right?" 

He managed a smile. "I'll live. Come on, Susan. I know you have a thousand things to keep track of. You don't need to be checking up on me." 

She started leave, but paused at the door for a last glance. Granted, it _was_ uncharacteristic for Marcus to shoo her out of his company like that, but for right now...he needed to think. 

The next month crawled by. Despite Dr. Hobbs's repeated assurances that they were doing everything they could to speed his healing Marcus felt that he'd never be back in top condition. His ribs still pained him long after the soft tissue damage had been repaired. For the first week or so even breathing hurt. After that had more-or-less subsided he was still victim to the jarring, agonizing effect of sneezes, coughs, and laughter. 

By the third week sparring and running, the two activities he most relied upon to keep in shape, had been replaced with carefully regimented physiotherapy. Marcus astounded doctors and nurses alike by doing what they asked when they asked it of him. That, uncharacteristically, included taking his meds, in exchange for which the doctors proved willing to let Marcus push his therapy harder than was strictly necessary. 

Two weeks into the physio Sheridan came to check in on him and stood just watching him obediently sweat through his exercises for a moment. At last he shook his head and smiling said, "Who are you and what have you done with Marcus?" 

Marcus exhaled sharply and half-smiled, his current version of a laugh. "I just want to get back on duty, captain." 

Sheridan snorted. "I've seen you injured before, Marcus. You're normally as bad a patient as I am. Refusing your meds, pushing yourself too hard physically, complaining about the therapy, all the while insisting you feel just fine. What's different this time?" 

Marcus let the therapist who was guiding him push him down so that he lay looking up at the ceiling while he started the next set of exercises. "I'm just motivated," he said, eyes fixed overhead. 

"And you're not normally?" the captain asked skeptically. 

"More motivated, then," was all Marcus would allow. He'd always been more interested in alleviating short-term boredom and frustration than he had been with shortening long term recovery time by a week or two. This time was different. Marcus was determined to go after Neroon and he wasn't about to do that unless he was in top form. That meant following the doctor's orders to the letter. 

"You're not planning to do something stupid, are you?" Sheridan questioned sharply. 

Marcus's stomach clenched nervously. Resolutely, he wrapped himself in calm. "Define 'something stupid.'" 

"Something like going after Neroon." 

His heart leaped, but Marcus managed not to show his shock on the surface. _He doesn't mean that like I do,_ the Ranger reminded himself. "I've no interest in revenge, if that's what you mean," Marcus said, meeting Sheridan's eyes for the first time in their conversation. " _I_ challenged _him_. He was only preserving his honor when he took me up on it." 

"Then why is Doctor Hobbs suddenly describing you as a model patient?" Sheridan demanded impatiently. "Marcus, I hope you know you can trust me." 

_Dammit._ Marcus sighed silently. "Captain, do you mind if I speak frankly for a moment?" 

"Please," Sheridan said, gesturing. 

Marcus hardened his gaze and paused in his exercises for a moment. "Then, frankly, it's none of your business. My reasons for my motivation are...personal." 

Sheridan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "That's what Susan said you said when she asked you about Neroon." 

Marcus went back to his exercises. "What a coincidence," he said lightly. 

"Marcus, regardless of whether or not your reasons are personal, if you get in trouble it _will_ be my problem." 

"I promise I won't get myself into trouble." 

Sheridan just sighed. "Why does that not reassure me?" he said, shaking his head. Marcus said nothing, and eventually the captain left. 

The visits, from all Marcus's friends and even a few acquaintances, got more frequent after that. Everyone suspected he was going to run off and get himself killed and everyone was doing their best to glean clues from him as to what he might intend. If Marcus weren't so worried that they might figure out he _was_ planning to run off he'd have found all the attention flattering. As it was, he threw them off the scent as well as he could and ignored them the rest of the time. 

His soulmate was out there. Just this once, Marcus was going to think of himself first. 

Hobbs cleared him for limited weapons practice six weeks after the injury -- PPG, throwing weapons, and some hand to hand. She put her foot down when Marcus asked for his pike and he resigned himself to more waiting. But not too much more. His physiotherapist had admitted, when pressed, that Marcus was just about finished with his services and ready to start training on his own again. 

Two weeks after that, two months total after the denn'sha, Marcus was ready to head out after Neroon. In all that time there had been no word from the Warrior, nor did discreet inquiries glean any news of him. Insecurity and hope and conviction had long since cooled to an aching need for some kind of closure. _If he felt the connection,_ Marcus thought, standing in his quarters and considering what to take with him, _if he knew me as I thought he did, he'd have said something by now. Left a message. Sent a message. No, there will be no reunion. Union. Whatever. I just...need to look into his eyes once. Without my own death hanging over me._

The shrill beep of the comm system interrupted Marcus's thoughts. He opened the channel. "Yeah?" 

"If you were packing," Ivanova said, "you might want to start unpacking." Marcus looked over at the empty but open bag and got an odd chill. 

"If, hypothetically, I was packing," he said, trying to keep his tone amused, "why would I want to do that?" 

"Because the Ingata just came out of hyperspace," Susan said dryly. _The Ingata,_ Marcus thought, momentarily stunned. _That's Neroon's ship._ Ivanova went on. "Apparently Alit Neroon is on his way to see you." 

"Thanks, Susan," Marcus said. _What the hell,_ he thought. _Now that I'm not going anywhere I might as well let them know they were right._ He grinned. "I guess I can put this bag away now." 

"I knew it!" Ivanova crowed. Marcus shook his head and signed off. Then he picked up the empty bag and threw it back into his closet. Five minutes before he'd been preparing to chase Neroon across half the galaxy. Now that the Minbari was within spitting distance, so to speak, Marcus was determined to make Neroon come to _him_. 

Ten excruciating minutes later Marcus's door beeped at him. _Not meeting him at security certainly didn't slow him down,_ Marcus thought, inexplicably amused. "Come in," he called and was impressed at how casual his own voice sounded. 

The door slid open and there he was, every inch as arrogant as he had been two months before. He had a guard at each shoulder, but when he stepped into Marcus's quarters they remained outside. Marcus resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. He had a feeling if let slip the slightest expression his control would break down entirely and he'd end up screaming at Neroon. 

The Warrior caught his gaze and held it for a long moment. Marcus's heart clenched painfully. _I know you,_ he thought. _As cliched as it sounds, I've always known you. Valen help me, I love you. Don't you know me?_

"Marcus Cole," Neroon said slowly, as if savoring the syllables. They rolled off his tongue liquidly. 

In that moment, Marcus knew he'd been right the first time. Neroon _had_ known him. He let out a brief, shuddering breath, then tried and failed to harden his heart. "Why did you leave?" he asked as last. 

Neroon didn't pretend to misunderstand. "I had to be sure," he said, slowly crossing the room. "You have to understand, Marcus, I didn't even know I was missing you until I looked down my pike into your eyes." 

"You weren't sure then?" Marcus asked, trying to rein in the hurt. _How could he not have felt that?_

Neroon stepped closer, almost close enough to touch. "I _felt_ it," the Warrior breathed, "but I did not know it." 

"And now?" Marcus asked, stomach clenching nervously. His eyes drank in every line and plane of the Neroon's face. _Beautiful,_ he thought. _He's beautiful._

Neroon stepped even closer, but didn't lift his hands to touch. Marcus met his gaze and felt himself cast adrift and anchored all at the same time. "I have spent every moment," Neroon murmured, "since leaving you, thinking about what I might have done if I had stayed. I have imagined sparring with you, and holding you. I have dreamt of touching you, of lying entwined with you." Marcus stood frozen, eyes half closed, hardly daring to breathe as his heart absorbed every word. Neroon leaned forward and whispered, his lips brushing Marcus's ear. "I have longed to whisper my heart to you." 

Marcus swayed unsteadily and automatically lifted his hand to Neroon's hip to ground himself. A moment later he was glad of the support. Neroon dragged his lips across Marcus's cheek and jaw, apparently not disturbed by the roughness of his beard. Then their lips met and Marcus lost himself in warm pressure and tingling caresses and the slick hot pleasure of a deeper kiss. An involuntary whimper of need escaped and Neroon pulled him closer, both hands splayed in the small of Marcus's back. 

Marcus forced himself to pull back just far enough. Still, their lips brushed sweetly with every word. "Neroon," he murmured, "I need you." 

"Yes," Neroon agreed simply, his hands already going to the ties and clasps of the Ranger tunic Marcus wore. Clumsily, Marcus followed suit, searching out hidden fastenings of Neroon's uniform. Neroon found Marcus's skin first and for a moment the Ranger could only lean helplessly into the wandering touch of his hands. 

"Neroon," Marcus gasped, struggling to find his focus. At last the armor fell away and black cloth was discarded. Marcus leaned close, breathing deeply, absorbing Neroon's scent even as he spread his hands across the Warrior's chest. 

Neroon captured his lips for another kiss, pressing them together skin to skin. Marcus reveled in the contact. He leaned closer, hungry for more contact, and gasped in startled pleasure when his groin met Neroon's and found an answering hardness there. Neroon made an achy sound, possibly a chuckle, possibly a groan of need, and moved to rub against him. 

Marcus found himself eagerly pulling at the fastenings of Neroon's pants. They struggled impatiently out of pants, boots, and socks and came back together in a rush of contact that brought both men to their knees atop an uneven bed of discarded clothes. For a moment they just knelt there and kissed hungrily, bodies pressed tightly together, hands exploring, hips joined so closely that the slightest movement elicited gasps of pleasure and need. 

Soon Neroon pressed Marcus down and stretched out over him, letting the simple fact of his weight pressing down stir their pleasure. "Neroon," Marcus moaned, "I need..." 

"I know," Neroon murmured, but Marcus shook his head. 

"I need...to tell you..." he gasped, distracted for a moment. Neroon waited, gave him a moment to gather himself. Finally Marcus looked up into his eyes. "I waited for you." 

A flicker of regret passed over Neroon's features. "I didn't," he said, almost apologetically. 

Marcus just smiled and lifted a hand to stroke Neroon's cheek. "So teach me," he invited, voice rough with wanting. 

Neroon's eyes went black with desire. He leaned down and kissed Marcus deeply, possessively. Tasting his lips with a last flicker of his tongue, Neroon ran a hand down Marcus's flank, curling his finger around the point of his hip. "Mine," he murmured in wonder. 

"Yes," Marcus answered, lifting his hips as much as he could under Neroon's weight. 

Neroon looked into his eyes and in the Warrior's gaze Marcus saw the kind of joy he'd hardly dared to dream of. "Move with me," Neroon commanded, and proceeded to set a surging, rolling rhythm that left Marcus gasping with pleasure. It was all the Ranger could do to cling to Neroon and respond to the Warrior's movements with the thrust of his hips and the play of his hands across Neroon's body. 

Marcus could feel his control splintering as the waves of pleasure crested and rolled through him. Near crying with the sweetness of it, he moved even more firmly against Neroon, determined to bring the Minbari with him over the edge. 

"Marcus!" Neroon cried out. "My Marcus." 

Marcus's control shattered. He clung to Neroon, body shuddering with pleasure as he spent himself against hot skin, already slick with sweat everywhere they had touched. Neroon took his mouth against for a passionate kiss and then he, too, was pushing hard against Marcus as his body trembled with his release. 

They lay there for a long moment, Marcus simply savoring the languid energy of release and the weight of his lover against him. He stroked his hands over the slope of Neroon's back and the curve of his ass, feeling oddly hesitant now. "There's so much..." he murmured. 

Neroon hummed softly and turned them onto their sides so that he could hold Marcus and look into his eyes at the same time. "I want to show you everything," he said softly. 

Marcus smiled and leaned in for a soft, tender kiss. "I want everything with you." 

"Yes," Neroon murmured, "that's the way it should be." 

Eventually they rose and cleaned each other off and moved to the bed, tilted Minbari fashion. It was small, but they crowded together with smiles and didn't care. 

Nor did they notice or care that there were still two guards standing outside the door, waiting, or that the comm had been beeping with worried messages for at least five minutes. 

\--End--


End file.
